I'm not a part of these songs
by Experiment G1T8L1
Summary: AU, Cybertron is a large city, and the war now between the two gangs there. Slipstream, a Decepticon Femme, finds herself in the midst of the tangled web. What now?


**Welcome! This is my first Fan-fic PLEASE DON'T FLAME. I have permission from **Tsumiden **to use her autobot/decepticon names.**

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><p>1. Can't you see, I'm the Narrator and this is just the prologue<p>

Graci sighed as she checked on the brand on her left upper arm as she did every day before a fight, meeting, or, sometimes, just to check if it was all just a terrible dream that she could wake up from. Which, she is sad to say, it hasn't been yet. The purple angled face looked back at her from the mirror and grinned its constant, malicious, ear-to-ear grin. She shuddered, remembering the pain of that night, though Malcom, er, Megatron made it seem like a true honor to wear this brand for always. _And, yet, he doesn't... odd_. Lost in this train of thought, she pulled down her hoodie sleeve and stared at her reflection before fixing her hair and make-up for no reason at all.

_I mean, he wears it on his belt buckle, but not on his well toned hide, like everyone else does.. Including me._

She blinked as her brother called to her, "Hey, Slipstream!" He called, none too quietly, either, "Are you ready yet?"

"Uh, yes, Jake! Is it time to go?" Graci called back, giving her turquoise streaked black ponytail a final tug and turning out the lights before she left the bathroom and walked down the stairs to where the "finely crafted" aluminum door and her sand, haired and brained, older brother waited for her.

"It's Bonecrusher, and would I be calling you down if it wasn't?"

"Whatever." Graci said, looking over her brother's outfit, consisting of a black hoodie, dark blue jeans, combat boots and a tank top. "Mimicking Ironhide today?"

"Yeah."

"The one 'Bot, I kept trying to take down?" she crossed her arms and leaned on the wall for a moment .

"Yes?"

"Oi... and let me guess, you can't change because we have to leave now."

"M-hm." Bonecrusher said opening the door and silently inviting her through.

"Great... But seriously, stop doing that!" She stepped out down the porch steps, and into the street.

"But if Bluestreak can't tell if I am Autobot scum or Decepticon ruler, so-," Bonecrusher said sheepishly, as he closed and locked the door behind them.

"-So you won't get shot? but what about everyone else on the battle field, huh? Forget about the other guns, knives, sharpened sticks, and other deadly things? and the Decepticon sharp-shooter?" In a voice full of scorn and honeyed venom, Graci laid her trap.

"Well..."

"Your little sister?"

"So?"

"Do you mean to ask that?"

"Yes?"

"The correct answer there was no. Or did you forget you made your little sister join the Decepticons in an effort to help the gang, then found out Dad had been training her to shoot before the accident?"

"uh..."

Graci scoffed and walked a little faster to get ahead of Bonecrusher. _Just like Megatron's Dog to forget about me... I have just been cooking his food and cleaning up the house since Mom and Dad left me alone with him. Not to mention saved his aft once or twice every single battle and_-

"-not black."

"What?" She stopped and turned.

"My tank-top. It's desert camo. It's not black."

"Okay?"

"Ironhide's is black."

"You look?"

"You haven't?"

"You really think I stare at Ironhide's chest?"

"...Yes?"

"BOYS!" Graci fumed, turning to storm towards the hideout's closest entrance, and almost into someone.

"What's this about boys now?" The tall dark man said.

"Yo, Swindle!"

"Jake, what has Malcom told you about using code-names out of the hideout or battles?" Swindle pretended to scold Bonecrusher.

"The same thing he told you about selling the weapons of the dead, Edward."

"Shat up, femme."

"The same thing the big M told you about selling fallen friend's and foe's weapons off to the highest bidder."

"Too true, bud." Swindle said, dragging a willing Bonecrusher off to discuss "secret fighting stuff".

Graci sighed and allowed her thoughts to wander as she did as well, though she hoped her physical wanderings where a more linear procedure, her thoughts never were. _I hate being treated different because I am a femme, a female! Like that makes a difference that matters! Well, in this situation, at 't they see me up there on the balconeys, raining death upon the Autobots and preventing Rober-Bluestreak from doing the same? Robert is Casey's, er, Mirage's boy-friend and I was, no, am her best friend. Why did she follow him instead of me? I'll have to ask her the next time I see her... which isn't very often anymore..._ She looked ahead of her and saw the wroght-iron fences belonging to the Towers gated community, where Casey lived with her family _where they won't let street rats like me or Robert in_. Millisa shook her head and turned towards the hideout for the decepticons. And snickered.

At the steps of the Towers, just beyond the Ankon grocery store lies the Decepticon hideout, an abandoned toothpaste factory.


End file.
